But egotism, vanity, and obstinacy were the strongest characteristics of his nature, and when Gertrude had so dauntlessly turned upon him, expressing her contempt for his conduct in no measured terms, and so fearlessly manifesting her admiration for, and espousing the cause of, Clifford Faxon, he had been goaded to jealous fury beyond all self-control, and a rash determination to conquer her and make her confess her love for him had taken possession of him. But instead of entangling her helplessly in his net, he had unthinkingly fallen into his own trap.
Gertrude was startled, to say the least, with the turn the conversation had taken. She had been conscious for some time that Philip Wentworth held a very warm place in her heart. He was handsome and brilliant, and had made himself attractive to her by those thousand and one flattering little attentions which render men captivating in the eyes of women.
But at heart she was a noble and most conscientious girl, and she had been bitterly disappointed upon discovering such weak and despicable traits in the character of her admirer as Philip had manifested, and the suffering which this had caused had carried her beyond herself, and thus she had given vent to the scorn that has been described.
But a sudden revulsion of feeling had come when he confessed his affection for her, and appealed so humbly, apparently, for her forgiveness, and she began to feel that it would not be so very difficult to pardon him and influence him to nobler sentiments, and, womanlike, she at once began to reproach herself for her harsh judgment of him.
“Why,” she exclaimed, with crimson cheeks and averted eyes when he paused for her reply to his suit, “you have literally taken my breath away, Mr. Wentworth.”
“And what have you done to me, I should like to know?” he retorted, as he shot her a roguish look, while he lifted one of her hands and imprinted a deferential caress upon it. “You have just flayed me alive, figuratively speaking.”
“Forgive me,” she murmured. “I am afraid I have said more than I ought.”
“Ah! but the sting lies in the fact that you could have thought such hard things of me,” Philip replied, in a tone of tender reproach. “Still,” he continued, drawing her gently toward him, “if you will only forgive the sinner and try to help make him a better man in the future, all that will be wiped out. Dearest, you can mold me to your own sweet will. I know that I am full of faults, but I am also your willing slave, eager to be led where you will. Gertrude, command me and love me, and no one was ever more tractable than I will be.”
Little by little he had drawn her toward him while he was speaking, until he had slipped his arms around her unresisting form, and she lay upon his breast, all her scorn, contempt, and indignation merged and swallowed up in her all-absorbing love for him.
It was very easy to forgive such an earnest pleader, and she told herself that one so ready to confess his faults would be easily reformed, and she was not averse to undertaking the task.